Mace, p.4
Mace, page 4
That had been the first time I had the stirrings of a hard-on in a funeral home.
Imogen had turned into the beautiful woman I always knew she would be.
She always held a special place in my heart, which hadn’t changed.
Something about her made me want to protect her from the evil of the world and not let anyone touch her.
She had been mine when I was seventeen, and she still was today, even after all these years.
I knew dragging her into the mess with Darrin Bing was going to be hell, and I still wasn’t sure if I wanted her even to know what was happening. She had already been through so much, and my protection to keep her safe was strong. Even when keeping her safe meant, I would be going down for murder.
I would come back tonight, but I still wasn’t sure it would be anything more than just catching up.
Imogen would be safe, even if it meant I would spend the rest of my life behind bars.
She was worth that and so much more.
Chapter Six
Imogen
“Do you think his friend is going to be with him?” Dorothy peeked out the blinds of Mr. Brooks' office and scanned the street. “I wonder if he’s single.”
“Mace?” I asked. I leaned against the doorframe and tried to steady my breathing. Every minute that ticked by and it got closer to five; I could feel my anxiety rising.
Mason was going to walk through the door again, and I knew he was coming this time. Though I shouldn’t refer to him as Mason anymore. He had been pretty stern about being called Mace.
It seemed to fit the new man who had stood before me earlier. Sure, I could still see Mason, but I could also tell he had grown into Mace.
Dorothy glanced at me and rolled her eyes. “I want a man of my own, Imogen, but I’m not that desperate where I am going to try to steal the man who has loved you since infancy.”
“I’ve known him since third grade, Dorothy. That’s not long.”
She scoffed and turned back to the window. “Right, girl. Over twenty years isn’t long at all.”
“Why don’t you get away from the window? He is going to see you when he pulls up.” If he even pulls up. Mace might have just wanted to get eyes on me, and that could be it. Make sure I was still alive, and then go back to not talking for another fifteen years.
I couldn’t be mad at him for the past fifteen years. Yes, I hadn’t been hiding away as a nun in a convent, but I also hadn’t been the one to tell him where I was or what was going on with me.
“He’s not going to be able to see me,” Dorothy sighed. “Besides, you were the one who said it was a good idea if I stayed hidden in the office while the two of you talked. For all you know, he could have been a serial killer for the last fifteen years, and you’re his next prey.”
Dorothy had been the one to come up with that crazy story.
Sure, I thought it was weird how he had just popped up out of nowhere, but I didn’t think he was here to kill me. “I’ve changed my mind. If I know you’re hiding in the office and listening to us, I don’t think I can handle that. You need to go home, and I’ll call when he leaves.”
“That’s no fun for me,” Dorothy pouted. “I promise I won’t make a noise.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t risk Dorothy being here, especially if Mace were here to discuss our shared past. “I promise to tell you everything, okay?” It was five to five, and she needed to get out of here now before Mace arrived.
She chewed on her bottom lip and nodded. “Fine, but I’m only leaving because I don’t think he is a serial killer. But just know, I am only a phone call and five minutes away.”
I nodded and stepped toward the front door. “I know. I will be on the phone if I even slightly think I need your help.”
Dorothy scooted past me and pulled open the front door. “I am going to sit in my car until he shows up.”
I closed my eyes and tried not to scream. I was dealing with enough without Dorothy being crazy. “Do you really need to do that?”
An engine roared nearby, and five seconds later, Mace pulled into the parking lot.
“No,” Dorothy chirped, “because now I can tell him to his face while I walked to my car that he better behave because you and I both know how to get rid of a body with no trace of evidence.”
My blood rushed from my face, and I struggled to swallow.
Mace knew how to do the same thing.
He had done the same thing fifteen years ago.
“Call me when he leaves, Imogen.” Dorothy walked out, and the door closed behind her.
I dashed to Mr. Brooks’ office and peeked from behind the blinds.
Mace gingerly got off his bike, and Dorothy walked up to him.
I couldn’t tell what she was saying to him, but I figured it was along the lines of if you hurt her, I’ll kill you.
Mace nodded a few times while she spoke, but it didn’t appear he had said anything.
Dorothy flounced over to her car and whipped open the door. “I mean it,” she called so loudly that I could hear her.
Mace raised his hand over his head with a smirk on his lips.
Dorothy looked upset, and Mace appeared to be amused.
Interesting.
Mace headed to the front door, and I sprinted from Mr. Brooks’ office.
“Hi,” I called when the door opened. “I didn’t know you were here.”
Mace pushed his sunglasses on top of his head and was still smirking. “Really? Dorothy told me you knew I was here. Mentioned I should go right in.”
Damn, Dorothy. “Oh, well, I mean, I figured you were here since it’s five, so I told her if she saw you, just to tell you to come on in.” I cleared my throat and struggled to naturally smile. I was pretty sure I looked like a dog with peanut butter on their teeth when I licked my lips.
“I suppose,” Mace laughed. “Are you done working for the day?” he asked.
“Uh, well, for the time being. I’m pretty much on call twenty-four-seven. The dead never rest.” I winced and wished I could take back that last sentence. I needed to tone down the morgue humor. I’m sure he already thought I was creepy and weird because of where I worked; I didn’t need to make it even worse. “I just mean I can be working at any time. Right now, we are dead. Well, not the good kind of dead. I mean, there isn’t a good dead, but we’re dead dead right now.” I gulped and pasted a smile on my lips. “Good dead for me dead.”
Oh my god. I struggled to shut up and prayed for a hole to magically appear and swallow me whole.
“Babe,” Mace laughed. “I get what you’re saying.”
Did he? Because I barely understood what I was saying.
I literally needed to stay in the morgue and not interact with people anymore. I had word diarrhea and couldn’t shut up.
“Good. Maybe you can explain it to me?” And I was still going. Shut up, Imogen.
“Take a breath, babe,” he chuckled. “I’m not here to quiz you or anything.”
“Then why are you here?” I blurted. “Fifteen years and we never spoke, but now suddenly you’re in my home.” I needed to know what Mace wanted.
Mace looked around. “I kind of hoped you lived upstairs or somewhere else on the property, babe. Please don’t tell me you sleep in the death five thousand over there.” Mac motioned to the open black casket in the viewing room. “Though I’m sure it’s nice and snug.”
I rolled my eyes and motioned to the stairs. “I live upstairs. This is my workspace, and upstairs is my home. Downstairs is also where I work.” Do not tell him downstairs is the morgue, Imogen. He could figure that out on his own.
“Very Wednesday Addams of you, babe.” He reached out and snagged a strand of my hair. “Though I will admit it’s definitely doing it for me.”
I gasped and stepped back out of his reach.
I was doing it for him? I never once thought that I had ever done it for Mason Stonewall, but the way he was looking at me said differently.
“Why don’t we head upstairs once I lock up?” I suggested.
Mace stepped to the side, and I moved to the front door.
“Don’t let me get in your way, babe,” he muttered.
I walked through the motions of locking up and finished by the stairs. “Let’s go,” I called.
Mace followed me up the stairs, and I shakily put my key in the lock.
“Damn, babe. You lock up even when you’re literally downstairs?” he asked.
I shrugged and pushed open the door. “I’ve had a few people over the years be curious and invade my personal space during funerals. I live above the funeral home out of convenience, but that also doesn’t mean every and anyone can come up.”
Sure, I didn’t pay rent per se, but that was because part of my pay was being able to live here.
I flipped on the light and stepped into my apartment.
“People just come into your apartment?” Mace glanced around and turned to me.
“There were two people that did, and then we won’t even talk about the couple I found making out on my couch.” I closed the door and kicked off my shoes. “They were super nice to me when I told them this was my apartment and not a place they could hook up.”
“Wait, babe. Are you telling me that you walked in on people going at it in the middle of a funeral?”
I nodded and moved into the kitchen. “You’d be surprised at the number of people I have seen sneak away at a funeral.” I opened the fridge and grabbed two bottles of water.
“Must be something about realizing life is short,” Mace muttered.
“You’re probably right, but I think they could control themselves until they are at least a mile away from the dead body.” I offered Mace a bottle of water and awkwardly stood in front of him.
“Can’t really argue with that, babe.” He twisted off the cap and took a drink. “Get all of your orders done for the day?”
I did not want to talk about ordering caskets with Mace. “Uh, yup. We should be good for a while unless we get a run on–.” I closed my eyes and remembered whom I was talking to. Dorothy, Merv, and Bruce didn’t think it was odd when I talked about caskets, death, and embalming fluids. “Business,” I whispered.
“The business of death, babe. If you had told me fifteen years ago that shy Imogen was a mortician, I wouldn’t have believed it.” He nodded to the couch. “Mind if I sit?”
“Of course.” I moved to the recliner, and Mace sprawled out on the couch. “And being a mortician surprised me, too.”
“I think I need to hear this story.”
I sighed and shrugged. “Not much of a story. I was a senior and had no idea what I was going to do after college. Career day rolled around, and there were so many people wandering around. I went to the booth that didn’t have anyone at it, which was a funeral home.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded. “He gave me all of the information I needed to become a mortician, and I did it. Every step of the way, it just felt right.” I glanced at Mace, who looked a little confused. “Yes, I know it’s weird saying being a mortician feels right, but I firmly believe I am doing what I was meant to do. I like having a flexible schedule, caring for people, and a cool place to live.”
Mace shrugged. “You don’t have to sell me on it, babe.”
That was exactly what it felt like when I told people I was a mortician. I had to sell them on the idea that it wasn’t a weird profession and that it was like any other job with just a few different details. Embalming was one of those details.
“So, what are you doing?” I asked. The less we talked about myself, the better I would be.
“Uh, well, once I graduated, I drifted around for a few months and then hooked up with the Royal Bastards. Been a member ever since.”
That was interesting. I didn’t see any motorcycle clubs in Jackson. When I lived in San Diego with my grandma, many people drove motorcycles, but I never paid too much attention if they were in a club or whatever. “Not the path I would have thought you would have taken, but it seems to fit you well.”
“Found the family I always wanted, babe.”
“So what’s your job when you’re not a biker?”
Mace chuckled. “I’m always a biker, babe. And I make money at the club the MC owns.”
I tipped my head to the side. “So you’re a bouncer or something?”
“More or less. We all do whatever needs to be done around the club.”
“Nice.” I didn’t know what else to say. Small talk was not my thing. I had been doing pretty well, but now I didn’t know what else to ask. I’m sure there were many more things we needed to get caught up with on each other, but I couldn’t think of a single thing.
“So, you’ve been good?” Mace asked.
I knew what he was asking. His tone had lowered and softened, and it was like his voice wrapped around me.
“Um, yeah. Things were a little rocky for a bit, but now I’m good.” I splayed my hand around. “I have my own place, a job I love, and Dorothy.”
“You mean friends?” Mace laughed.
I shrugged and smiled. “I mean, I would say friend, not friends. I like to keep my circle small.” A lot of that had to do with the fact that I was just naturally shy if I didn’t know you and my job.
“How were things with your grandma?” he asked.
“Uh, well, they were okay.” I cleared my throat and tried to steer the conversation away from myself again. “After a while, we got along and got into a groove.” More like I figured out how to stay out of her way, and as soon as I could, I was out of there.
“Did you and your mom ever get back in a groove?”
I shifted uncomfortably and smoothed my hands down my thighs. “Uh, well, we’ve talked. She moved to Hollywood a few years ago, and I haven’t seen her since. She does call around Christmas and send a card.”
“We both drew the short stick when it came to parents, huh, babe?” Mace shook his head.
“Yes, well, it’s true when they say you can’t choose your family.”
“I did when I joined the club.”
I was glad Mace had been able to find that. Although he had never said it, I knew he hated growing up with an absent dad and a mother who didn’t want him either. “Was that who was with you earlier?” I put my hand to my mouth. “Oh my gosh. Is your friend sitting outside this whole time?”
Mace chuckled and shook his head. “He took off when I told him I was hanging around till five.”
“Oh, well. That’s good.”
Mace leaned back and sighed heavily.
“Uh, why is it you were looking for me?” I asked softly.
Mace quirked his lips and looked around. “Uh, you know. You’ve just been on my mind, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
I raised my eyebrows. “That seems suspicious,” I laughed. There had to be more to it than just that. “What made you think of me?”
“I think about you a lot, Imogen. You were a big part of my life when we were growing up.”
“But what after fifteen years made you want to find me? Or make your two girlfriends want to find me?”
“Girlfriends?” Mace laughed. “Babe, I haven’t ever had a girlfriend.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right,” I drawled. “You haven’t had a girlfriend and are still a–.” Lord. I was about to call him a virgin. “Man.” I cringed and dropped my chin to my chest. It would have been better to call him a virgin.
“You are exactly the girl I remember, Imogen. Shy, but couldn’t keep a thought inside your head.”
“What?” I protested. “I can keep thoughts in my head; I just have a problem filtering out the ones that should stay put.”
“Exactly.”
I sat up and leaned toward Mace. “Well, you’re the same, too. You have something you need to tell or ask me, and you’re doing everything but that. Spit it out why you’re here, Mason.”
“Mace, babe,” he reminded me.
I waved my hand at him. “You’ll always be Mason to me.”
“Mason has been long gone, Imogen. He wasn’t the type of man that was going to help me survive.”
“Well, Mason did more than survive when I knew him. He saved me.” Mason and I hadn’t talked much after everything that had happened fifteen years ago. He helped me clean up, I went home, and I was in San Diego the next day.
I tried not to think about that day.
I did what I had to do to live, and Mason was there for me the whole time.
Until I left.
“I’m Mace now, babe. I’d appreciate it if you called me that.”
“Fine,” I whispered.
“God,” he sighed. “I didn’t come here wanting to argue about my name.”
“Then why did you come?” I asked again. “We’re circling what you really want to talk about. Just say it.”
Mace closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest. “Because what I’ve got to say isn’t something you just blurt out to someone you haven’t seen in fifteen years.”
“So you think we’re going to make small talk for a couple of hours, and then you can spring it on me?”
“No, I thought I’d feel you out and see if you can handle what I have to tell you.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Are you dying or something, Mace?”
He shook his head. “No more so than everyone else. We’re all gonna die one day, but right now, I don’t know when that will be.”
That was a relief, but so many other things could still be wrong.
“Then what is it?”
Mace took his sunglasses off and tossed them on the coffee table. He ran his fingers through his hair, and his eyes connected with mine. “Darrin Bing is trying to pin Kent’s murder on me. I’m looking at life in prison if I can’t prove I didn’t kill Kent.”
Air left my lungs, and my worst nightmare came to life. “They can’t do that.”
“Well, they’re trying to, Imogen.”
I closed my eyes. “They won’t because I killed Kent.” I opened my eyes, and a tear streaked down my cheek. “And that’s what I’ll tell the police.”
